


Nobody Knows

by ExpressAndAdmirable



Series: The Heroes of Light [33]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Final Fantasy I
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Bards Being Bards, Child Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Gen, Mentor/Protégé, Tiefling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpressAndAdmirable/pseuds/ExpressAndAdmirable
Summary: Aviva tries to hide the punishment she receives at school from the adults in her life. Mourat sees through it. Contains: references to physical abuse.





	Nobody Knows

“There’s something you’re not telling me, little one.”

Aviva let out a long, disgruntled sigh. For a man who couldn’t see, Mourat was deeply and startlingly perceptive. He could read the tones in her voice, the subtle shifts of her mood, the way she played her instruments. He could pick up on signals she didn’t even know she was sending, and it never failed to surprise her when he put her thoughts into words. There were no secrets from the old man. “I just wanna work on singing today, okay?” She fidgeted on her stool, her arms tightly folded. “I don’t want to play strings.”

“And why is that?” Mourat leaned his elbows on the counter, pretending to peer at her with his milky eyes. “You never want to sing. Always, always the violin. Why today?”

“I just do,” Aviva tried, without conviction. “I… I can’t play today.”

“Oh?” Mourat’s pale brows rose, vivid against his dark skin even in the dim light of the shop. “From won’t to can’t. Now we’re getting somewhere. And why _can’t_ you play today?”

Aviva swallowed hard, glancing around the shop for a distraction and finding none. “My hands don’t work right.”

An unreadable expression crossed Mourat’s face. With a slight swish of his robes, he stepped out from behind the counter, pulling a stool next to Aviva’s and sitting down to face her. He presented his palms. “Aviva. May I have your hands?”

For a long moment, Aviva sat, wide-eyed and frozen. He never used her name. Slowly, gingerly, she uncrossed her arms and placed her little hands in Mourat’s larger ones. He began his customary probing, but the instant his thumbs touched her palms, she pulled them away with a sharp hiss of pain. Mourat nodded softly and waited. When she eventually extended her hands again, his touch was so light she could barely feel it. Raised, angry welts crossed both palms, and her knuckles were swollen and bruised. Mourat pursed his lips. “Little one…” he said, his voice as tender as his touch. “What happened at school today?”

Another pregnant silence. “…I got in trouble,” Aviva answered finally. Everything in her wanted to pull away, to curl into a ball and shut out the world, but she made herself stay in Mourat’s hold. She trusted him.

“For what?”

“Writing.” She paused, flushing with shame. “In Infernal. They tell me not to, but it’s faster and I can keep up better if I do. I try to only do it on my notes, so they don’t see it, but the teacher was walking and talking, and… he saw it.” She shrugged miserably and chewed her lip.

“Why do they tell you not to?”

“My teacher says it’s evil.” She frowned slightly, trying to remember precisely what the man had said. “He told me I should keep my devil writing out of his classroom. ‘I might be an abomination, but if I insist on taking up space, I can at least pretend like I belong in the goodly world.’” She did not know what _abomination_ meant, but the context was clear.

Mourat nodded again, his face impassive. “And then he punished you.”

“He stopped the whole class.” Her throat tightened, the fear still sharp even as the memory faded.

“Did he punish any other students today?” Something was playing at the edges of Mourat’s words, but she could not tell what.

“No.”

“Is this the first time he’s hurt you?”

“No.” Aviva could hear herself shrinking with each question. In truth, she was the favoured target for this particular teacher’s wrath, but she would rather face the disapproval of a thousand teachers than disappoint the old man. “Usually it’s not on music day, so I can get better before I come here. I… I’m sorry I can’t play today.” She hung her head.

At that, Mourat’s blank expression cracked. He sighed heavily, his shoulders drooping. “You have nothing to apologise for, little one.” Sensing her confusion, he cradled her hands in his, but did not expand on the point. “Does your mama know this happens?”

“No.” She kept her gaze on Mourat’s fingers wrapped ever so lightly around her own. “She always tells me to be careful. I don’t know if this would make her mad at me. Or mad at my teacher. Or just… sad.” It seemed like there was always sadness behind her mother’s eyes.

Mourat smiled gently. “Your mama loves you. She worries because she wants you to be safe, and she knows how hard that can be. But she can’t make you feel better if she doesn’t know something’s wrong. Don’t keep this from her. Okay?”

Reluctantly, Aviva nodded. “Okay.” Mama _did_ always make her feel better.

“There are many, many things in this world that should not be,” Mourat said softly. “Hatred. Injustice. Teachers who think beating their pupils is anything other than senseless torture. But you, my girl… You have every right to be exactly who – and what – you are.”

“Am I…” Aviva hesitated. “Am I an ‘abomination’?”

Instinctively Mourat pressed his hands around Aviva’s but immediately realised his mistake, releasing her and gesticulating broadly instead. “No! Absolutely not. Never say it, never think it!” He let his voice drop, though it lost none of its vehemence. “Listen – people think I miss things because I’m old and blind, but I can hear the truth of the world better than anyone. I know you, little one, and you are no abomination.”

“Everyone says Tieflings are bad,” Aviva responded, desperation creeping into her voice. “Everyone except mama, and I know even she thinks it sometimes. How do you know I won’t be, too?”

“When you sing, I can hear the beauty in your heart. When you play, I hear the goodness of your soul.” Mourat leaned closer, his tone deadly serious. “I pray you – never lose that beauty. The world will try to hurt you, try to destroy you; you mustn’t let it. You have to be strong, you more than anyone. Find strength in whatever you can. You’re a person, just like everyone else, and you deserve the chance to walk your own path. It will be harder, by virtue of the world hating what you are, but that doesn’t change _who_ you are. I believe in you. Do you believe in you?”

Aviva blinked as she digested the old man’s words, thought, then nodded. “Yes.” She could tell this was one of his larger lessons, one that would take a long time to fully understand. But in the moment, his words comforted her, and that was enough.

“Good.” Mourat smiled. “Let’s get something cold on your hands for now; when you get home, tell your mama and she’ll find some medicine. Then we’ll sing the bad away. How does that sound?”

For the first time that day, Aviva smiled too. “I like that. Let’s sing the bad away.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title song by Elsiane.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at @expressandadmirable for a proper table of contents for the Heroes campaign, commissioned character art, text-based roleplay snippets and more!


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